Fifty Lyrics
by CyanideDreams610
Summary: CHP 5 UPLOADED. A series of oneshots/drabbles all based on a few lines of 50 different lyrics. Each chapter is a seperate and completed oneshot in other words, EACH CHAPTER IS A DIFFERENT STORY unless I say so otherwise . JxL
1. You Knocked Me Out

Author's Note: Hi! This is my first story ever :P so I really don't know how well it is (and I have no idea what I'm doing...) ^^;; I've been told I got this annoying habit of switching my tenses...yea, I don't know how to catch that. It looks OK to me... So if anyone is really ticked about it, be my beta and edit my stuff lol. I've read it over a bunch of times, so most, if not all, grammar and spelling errors should be fixed. If I missed any, feel free to let me know.

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_**You knocked me out, I can never be the same; **_**  
**_**I pushed you over, but here we still remain.**_

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They argued a lot. He's too possessive. She's too paranoid. He's too rough. She's too stubborn. She wonders if it's worth it – staying with him, that is – him and his wild mood swings. He scares her sometimes when they argued; both of them fighters, neither one willing to back down. Sometimes he'd get so angry; he looks like he's going to strike her. He never does though. It's usually during those times that she wonders if they were better off going their separate ways.

They mostly argued about his job. She's a fucken bleeding heart and the idea of taking a human life completely abhors her. "Why can't you do something normal?" she'd scream at him, "I swear you reek of blood every time you come back!"

"Stop being a drama queen, Leese," he would shout back, "I already stopped taking jobs you deemed 'inappropriate' because the victims are 'good people,' and getting paid a lot less because of it," he muttered the last part. "That should at least please you enough to shut up about my choice in career."

"It doesn't matter, Jackson! You're still killing _people_! It isn't right to be taking lives no matter who it belongs to!" She tossed the dishes with the remnants of their dinner from the kitchen table to the sink loudly – one plate shattering; quite possibly mirroring the state of the couple's nerves at the moment. They were both standing, Jackson's chair sprawled on the floor behind him, and the table separated them. He stepped forward until his thigh pressed against the table's edge. "I didn't see you being so demure when you tried to take mine," he leered as he crossed his arms.

Lisa, rather shrilly, replied, "You were trying to kill _me_ first! Me!" She jabbed herself in the chest with her index finger after each "me." "Did you expect me to just roll over and let you do it?"

"Well, according to you, that's exactly what should've been done."

"Oh don't give me that bull!" she took a few steps closer to the table, standing behind her chair, "I was trying to protect myself!"

"Then think of me as a modern-day vigilante-hero, how's that? Protecting the world from drug lords and–"

"So the other drug lords paying you can take over his turf."

"That's not the point."

"No, of course not," she sneered at him.

He scoffed, "After all that you've fucken been through, I'd think you'd be less naïve!"

"What are you talking about?" she sighed, placing a hand to her forehead.

Jackson opened his mouth and froze, his lower jaw jutting out a bit. He closed his mouth then tried again, opening and closing his lips a few times before making a "tsk" sound. If he continued what he wanted to say, she probably would have either burst into tears or thrown a knife at him (she was also standing right in front of those sharp objects, all she have to do is reach behind her); maybe do both at the same time. He groaned in exasperation, "Shit." Since when did he care if he was being a little too cruel?

Lisa smiled sardonically, "Yea, I agree, Jack. Right now you're nothing but a piece of–"

His face twisted in rage and he roared, "Enough!" He raised his hand in an attempt to just add some emphasis to his words, nothing more. She flinched ever so softly. It was just a twitch of her head, a jerk of her hands, but she flinched...and he saw it. He saw the quick flash of fear in her eyes that disappeared as fast as it came. She was afraid of him. He lowered his hand, staring at her, his eyes a little too wide, his lips slightly parted – all the anger in his face drained away to shock. She looked back at him somewhat apprehensively. He closed his mouth and clenched his jaw, turning away from her; both of them looking at anything except each other.

He started walking towards her. She tensed as he grew near, still not looking at him. He stepped pass her and began collecting the pieces of the broken plate from the sink.

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Please review! (and please don't be mean)


	2. One of these Days

Something a little more fluffy to make up for the angst in the first chapter!

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One of these days you'll miss your train and come stay with me  
We'll have drinks and talk about things;  
Any excuse to stay awake with you.

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"Can't you just tell me how you feel?"

"I'm not the touchy-feely type, Leese."

"It's not that hard."

"It is, too."

"No, it isn't. You can tell someone all they need to know in four words or less."

"How so?"

"I love you. I don't love you. I need you. I don't need you. There."

"Well, in that case...I love you."

"I love you too. Now, was that so hard?"

"You have no idea."

A pillow was thrown, landing right smack in his face. Laugher filled the room with the sound of more pillows being thrown and hitting its mark.

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Please review!


	3. I am a Hostage to My Own Humanity

I've gotten quite a lot of hits but so little reviews! (I'd like to say thanks to the three lonely reviewers though *waves!*).

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**I am a hostage to my own humanity;  
Self-detained and forced to live in this mess I've made.**

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Maybe it's because he doesn't know what else to do. Or maybe it's because there's nothing left he could do. His life has been royally fucked after the whole Keefe ordeal. That doesn't mean his life has been a cakewalk before that red eye incident, no, his life has been in one big shithole for the longest time. He has nothing; he never had anything, except for his job and all the benefits that come with it (namely the money and all the crap he can buy to fill the proverbial empty hole in his chest). So maybe that's why, when his employers offered him a chance to redeem himself, he accepted. Of course, he won't be getting any big jobs for a while. As the old saying goes, "the higher you climb, the harder you fall," and he fell hard. He's going to have to crawl his way up again due to losing the integrity of his employers.

And so, his current assignment: tie up his loose-ends and then disappear for a while. Someone else will finish off Keefe. His ego is in shambles. Maybe he shouldn't have been so cocky. His loose ends are none other than the cause of his predicament, Lisa Reisert and her father. They are the only ones who really know of his assassination plot and what he looks like (Lisa knowing the former more than her father, naturally). While he was playing dead on Joe's foyer, both Lisa and her father went outside to let the police in. He took the opportunity to escape through the back door and ended up passing out under a parked car about ten blocks from the house. One of his associates (the one that Lisa _didn't_ kill) found him and took him away before the police made a clean sweep over the neighborhood.

He took a few months to nurse his wounds and wallow in his misery. During those months, he continued his surveillance over his main target, albeit through his laptop. The spy cams he had installed before actually meeting her were still there. As he watched her, he discovered that she was a little more cautious and alert of her surroundings, but also a little more confident. Her entire physique is screaming, "I refuse to live in fear and you don't scare me, Jackson!" She stood straighter, smiled brighter, and even went out more often.

"Guess my deflated ego inflated yours, huh, Leese?" Jackson smirked into his laptop as he watched her grab her purse and exit her apartment in a nice, but simple, little black dress. She was to meet Cynthia tonight to have a few drinks; then have dinner. Cynthia will most likely drag some poor sap along to introduce to Lisa in hope that they would hit it off and Lisa could score something along the lines of "happily ever after." Lisa, humoring her best friend, dressed nicely as to not disappoint her.

Jackson smiled as he snapped his laptop shut. Tonight, he'll make his way to her apartment. He'll wait for her to return; then he'll take care of her. After that, it's off to daddy's.

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Jackson made himself comfortable at Lisa's place. He had picked her lock easily enough and was now curiously snooping around. He could tell she had some really nice stuff from his laptop, and now, physically being there proved him right. Some of the things in her apartment were pretty high-end. Of course, being the practical woman that she is, those items were useful, and were not there just to take up space.

He walked towards her kitchen after scoping out her bedroom, bathroom, and yes, even her closets. Everything was spotless; yup, full-on OCD. He opened her fridge and peaked in – barely enough milk for a cup of coffee, half a loaf of bread (the brown kind, what was it? Whole wheat? Whatever, it was the kind he hated), some leftovers, cold-cuts, a few TV dinners, orange juice, romaine lettuce that seems to be wilting, some cherry tomatoes that might have been fresh a week ago now looks pretty pathetic, an almost empty bottle of blue cheese salad dressing (it seems she wants to eat healthy, but then again, healthy food never tastes very good unless drowned in something not-so-healthy), and a full carton of eggs (he rolled his eyes).

He reached into the fridge, intent on grabbing the orange juice carton when he heard some movement by her front door. He closed the refrigerator without taking the juice and straightened up. There was a faint sound of someone slipping a key into the lock and he smiled to himself. Well, it's show time. With his trusty KA-BAR tucked under his jacket, he stood in her kitchen, waiting.

The front door closed shut. When the sound of her high heels' clicking came closer, he quietly slipped out of the kitchen, right into her view. She froze, her eyes wide; doe-like, and she seemed to stop breathing altogether (although her mouth was hanging open quite unattractively). He smirked at her, his eyes growing colder each second. Then something surprising happened. Lisa closed her mouth and narrowed her eyes. Her shoulders squared and she took a wider stance. She looked determined and completely unafraid. She also looked completely stunning that way, like she's ready to fight to the death (in a clingy black ensemble, no less).

Jackson's shoulders slumped slightly and his eyes softened. Maybe he shouldn't have gotten so close.

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Please review! Tell me, do you guys like it? Hate it? Makes you wanna tear your eyes out and smear it across the walls? Gimme something! lol


	4. There's Things I've Done I Can't Erase

Sorry for the long wait! I found myself a beta, thanks for all your help Kaikamahine Mai Hawai'i!

Just wanna point out, every single chapter in this series is a oneshot and they have nothing to do with each other. Each chapter is a seperate story unless I say so otherwise ^^ .

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**_There's things I've done I can't erase, _**  
_**Every night we fall from grace**_

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Lisa is sitting on the floor in a corner of her bedroom; her knees are drawn up to her chest. She's bare under the large wool throw draped around her form and she sat facing the foot of her bed. In the bed is a man, also bare under the blanket; sleeping soundly on his stomach. One of his arms is thrown over the side she would normally lie in.

She is staring at him and slowly rocking herself back and forth, trying in vain to keep warm, although not caring that she's cold, not really anyway. She's shivering faintly, almost like her body is humming. Tears started to silently roll from her eyes; she left them there, too engrossed in her thoughts to move and wipe them away.

She should stop seeing him – Jackson, that is – but just the thought of pushing him out of her life feels more painful than their struggle during the red eye flight (and the struggle at her father's houseafter the flight). She didn't know what to do. There are just so many questions she's too afraid to ask. They're tearing her apart from the inside out.

_Where is this relationship going? Will it go anywhere at all? Is this even called a relationship when he just shows up and stays over? _They've never really had a decent conversation.

_Will he eventually stop showing up? Will he just disappear one day and never return? Will it be because he's dead? Or will it be because he grew tired of her?_ Sometimes he vanishes for days in a row; weeks even. But he always comes back...for now. _What if one day he doesn't come back? What will she do then?_

_Will he hurt her one day?_

Every time he stays over, she doesn't sleep, or at least she tries very hard not to. She would watch him; make sure he won't go anywhere. She would occasionally cling to him as he slept, softly stroking the side of his face or his chest; making sure that he's really there, that he's real. Other times she would lie on her side, watching him in his slumber. Most of the time, he slept like a log next to her; completely relaxed and comfortable. Other times, when he would show up completely exhausted, or when he would show up with new wounds on his body, he slept fitfully – tossing and turning, groaning in his sleep – like he was still fighting whatever demons he had to fight in his waking life. Or maybe he was the demon and he was fighting an angel. Whatever. If she doesn't think about that, it doesn't bother her so much anymore. What he does is his business, and she doesn't need, nor want, to know.

As hard as she tries to stay awake, she always ends up falling asleep and he's usually gone in the morning. There were a few times he stuck around. She would wake up to him watching her for a change. He'd smile softly at her, almost sadly sometimes, and she would try to smile back, but it never comes out the way she would like it to. Her smiles were always laced with grief and he would always see through it. The times that he stayed through the night, he would put on a show for her in the morning. He would kiss her hair softly, caress her face with the back of his hand, he would even make breakfast. He'd also frequently embrace her through the day until he had to leave again. The longest he has stayed was three nights.

They never really talk to each other, not on subjects that really count anyway. When he decides to stay longer than a few hours during the night, their day is just filled with random small talk – something to fill the silence – although even that is starting to diminish. She's afraid he's going to leave without saying goodbye. He must say goodbye. If he said goodbye, then she would know if he means to come back. If he never means to come back, she can get on with her life instead of waiting for him. She always waited for him.

Lisa started to sob softly into her knees, pressing her lips to the wool throw to silence the shuddering gasps erupting from her chest. She's shivering very violently by now. Jackson stirred slightly, the sheets making a rustling sound. Lisa froze for one second before she quickly swiped at her face, removing the evidence of her unhappiness.

"Leese?" Jackson rasped as he ran his hand over her side of the bed, searching for her. His voice is husky and tired. He pushed himself up and looked around until his eyes landed on her sitting on the floor.

"Hey," she whispered, attempting a smile.

He grunted as he sat up and looked at her with his head tilted slightly to the left, "Leese..." They didn't say anything for a few seconds, just looking at each other. He finally stood up and padded over to her, completely in the nude. There's no need for modesty, he's been sleeping over for quite some time already. He knelt down in front of her and looked into her eyes curiously, "Lisa?"

She again attempted to smile, but it didn't turn out right and his face fell. He brought his hand up and cupped the side of her face, "You're freezing..." he said as he slowly stroked his thumb over her cheek, "come back to bed, huh?"

Lisa pressed her lips together and lowered her head; looking at him seems to get harder when he's being so kind. She couldn't tell if he's faking it or not; didn't know if she was just a random warm body to him; someone to fuck and hold to chase away his nightmares...someone that could easily be replaced by another warm body if she starts gaining a voice.

"Hey..." Jackson whispered while gently lifting her chin to face him, "Come on...let's get back to bed."

She looked away from him again, her eyebrows scrunching together almost in pain. She should really kick him out of her life before she gets in any deeper – she's already way too close – leave him before he leaves her. It would be less painful that way, right? After all, he _is_ going to leave her, there's no question about that except "when?" He's Jackson Rippner for God's sake! No one can keep him, not for long.

Jackson ran his fingers across her cheeks, like he's wiping away tears – was she crying again? She couldn't tell. He leaned in closer, wrapped his arms around her and rubbed his hands up and down her back; trying to calm her trembling.

"Lisa..." he breathed into her hair. He shifted slightly and pressed his lips against her temple. He has stopped rubbing her back and just held her tightly. He trailed his lips down to her earlobe and gently nipped it; then he moved lower to her neck, kissing the pulse point. He trailed his lips back up, never once leaving her skin, "Come on, Leese..." he softly murmured. He pressed his lips against hers and she closed her eyes. "Come back to bed..." he whispered against her lips.

Lisa sighed deeply and her shoulders slumped, her eyes still closed. It's a sound almost like giving up. She swallowed the lump that seems to have developed a permanent spot on her throat to no avail; its still there no matter how many times she tries to gulp it down. "Okay..." she whispered back.

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Please review!


	5. And just to Soften the Blow

Sorry for the long wait, I spent a long freakin time on this one, and I'm still not satisfied with it! Oh well x.x This one is a sequel to the previous chapter "There's things I've done I can't Erase." This time, I've written in Jackson's POV (and I must say, getting into the mind of Jackson Rippner is HARD...and I'm sure I screwed it up somehow and made him OOC).

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**And just to soften the blow, I'll steal all of your kisses;  
And sew them up in the creases of our hearts.**

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Jackson sighed; he feels weary. He's been seeing Lisa for months and, although she thinks otherwise, he does care very deeply for her. The source of his problem is that he doesn't know how to express himself, not in words at least. Realistically, he's not much of a talker, not unless he's being manipulative and wants something, and he wants nothing from her. The only thing he does want...is just her. He can't have her through manipulation, no, not like that. He needs her to understand, but she just doesn't get it.

He thinks that being affectionate would be the answer; that by walking on eggshells around her would fix their fractured relationship. The thing is, the nicer he was, the sadder she became. The sadder she became, the more distressed he would grow. The more distressed he would grow, he becomes even nicer; which makes her become increasingly suspicious because, even he had to admit, it wasn't like him. What a vicious cycle; but what else could he do?

Now, she started to stop talking to him. He doesn't really know what to say to her, but he makes an effort to start a conversation anyway. She would rebuff him with one word answers or just answer him with the most heartbreaking smile. She's suffering, he could tell. He hasn't seen her really smile in a long time.

_Is he doing this to her? Is he the cause of her anguish?_

_Is that why she gets so sad when she looks at him?_

_Would it be better if he left? Would she be happier if he's gone? _

_God damn it._ He doesn't want to go.

She started to stop looking at him too. He'd try to catch her eye, walk into her view or tilt her head to face him; force her to see the sincerity in his crystal blues. She'd barely look at him for a few seconds before she would turn away again.

Well, he doesn't think she wants him to leave, not really. If anything, the way she acts when she thinks he's asleep is proof of that. He could feel her watching him, touching him, cling to him possessively – trying everything she could to keep him by her side only when she thinks he doesn't know about it. But when he's awake, she'd grow colder towards him with each passing day. It's as if she's afraid of the sight of him...or maybe afraid that if she stared at him long enough, he would just disappear right in front of her; now that would be scary (_not to mention, pretty devastating_). Yea, he figured it out. He's not stupid. Took him a while though, but he got it.

He reassures her in his own way, but, of course, she doesn't catch on. He's always touching her in some way or another – fingers running through her hair, lips brushing against her temple, hands holding hers, arms encircled around her shoulders. He would cling to her just as tightly as she does to him, even tighter perhaps. He'd hold her a little longer each time he embraces her, hoping that maybe, _maybe_, she would understand. She's not the only one who's afraid to let go. He will never leave her as long as she wants him. As long as she wants him, he'd stay forever. There aren't enough words in the world to express how he feels...so he'll show her; he'll show it to her in the only way he knows how. "_Come back to bed_," he pleaded.

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Please review!


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